


The Devil's Road Trip

by ajay_lotte



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst and Humor, BAMF Matt Murdock, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hydra (Marvel), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Red Room (Marvel), Road Trips, SHIELD, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajay_lotte/pseuds/ajay_lotte
Summary: Matt Murdock has been kidnapped, sold and trained throughout his childhood.  Between his time spent with lesser known organisations like the Chaste and the Hand, and much more criminally respected facilities including the Red Room and those owned by Hydra, he has become one of the most dangerous teenagers in existence.However, he's trying to put his magic-ninja-assassin years behind him, and with that he needs to escape.  But the Devil comes to those who need it, and he has plans to help everyone else escape their cages too.-An Avengers Assemble Teenage Road Trip Verse-
Relationships: Clint Barton & Matt Murdock, James "Bucky" Barnes & Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock & Avengers Team, Matt Murdock & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	1. The Escape

**Author's Note:**

> So, the Avengers are teenagers now  
> I wasn't going to... but here we are  
> Marvel owns all these characters and stuff, this is just a fanfiction for my own amusement because I suck, I'm bored, and had this idea instead of one for the Yellow Car Verse  
> Warnings: swearing  
> Happy reading, Lotte :)

This is it, Natalia thinks, the day she finally escapes the Red Room. Her title of Black Widow appointed, she now has one final test to attempt, and that’s catching the Devil, or Daredevil, as most of the assassins-in-training have dubbed him. The sixteen-year-old is famous amongst certain groups, most having vendettas to kill him, so what better reason for her to befriend the boy, if only by whispers through walls. The only boy to have ever been trained in the Red Room.

They’ve been planning this through a crack in the wall for weeks; he’ll pretend not to notice her tracking him, and she’ll pretend not to know where he’s gone. Their route is all planned out, and with any luck it’ll get them off radar long enough to catch up with the travelling circus. Perfect immediate escape out of the country.

A pistol is fired, and the chase begins. Natalia sees first time how he earns the title Daredevil, most of the routes he takes are paths nobody sane would ever consider taking. On their map, they hadn’t seemed so death defying. She takes different routes around, still faking being invisible, so the mentors examining her think that her presence from his is legit. And then, they reach the blank spot. She follows the Masked Boy down the fire escape, and then they split up, running through houses out of sight, and getting to the circus site just in time. They’re packing up the last tent.

The Devil causes a distraction and they run from either sides of the fields, leaping into the truck and taking cover under the packed-up tent. “Set to go.” A man with an American accent says, closing the container doors and knocking on the box twice. Two minutes later, and the trucks are on the road, heading out of the city. The country, even.

She gets up out of her hiding place, stretching. “Daredevil.” It’s the first word she’s ever spoken to him, and it’s not even in Russian. She turns to face him, and he’s already stood, having moved silently behind her. Despite the darkness of the container, she can make out the grin on his face, animalistic and covered in blood, facing not quite in her direction. She’s been trained to work in the dark, and she assumes he has been too.

“Black Widow.” He returns, matching her tone exactly. She laughs. For the first time in years, she laughs. He cocks his head to the side, grin only getting wider. Then he switches back to Russian comfortably. “We’re in the wind.” They stand in silence for a minute.

“You’re shorter than I expected.” She comments, covertly returning back to Russian, and he throws his head back with a laugh. “Natalia Romanova.” She holds her hand out, but he doesn’t take it.

“Matvei.” He holds out his own, and she repositions her hand to shake his instead.

“No surname?”

“Ah, there was a thing. It was complicated, and I lost it somewhere along the line.”

“You shared your escape plan; I can at least share my name.”

“Matvei Romanov.” He tries the words on his tongue, and by the smirk he likes the sound of it. Natalia likes the sound of it too. “Thank you.”

“We need a plan update, clothes and cash.” Matvei takes off his helmet, dropping it to the floor of the crate. “Maybe fake IDs too, fake school records.”

The boy hums- clicks his fingers a couple of times and walks over to some crates. He lifts off the top two and opens the third, and Natalia walks over to see it full of clothes. Circus clothes. “Is there anything suitable?” He asks, and instead of pondering the question, she just replies, already rummaging through the costumes.

“No, they’re all costumes.” He replaces the lid and removes the box again, now opening the fourth one and opening it. “Perfect.” She rummages. “Put these on.” Natalia pushes a pair of jeans and a grey hoodie into Matvei’s hands. She takes some black jeans and a grey t-shirt for herself, and they get changed, completely unbothered by each other’s presence.

“You’d think they’d make assassins bigger.” She jokes as she ties the baggy tee into a knot and Matvei roles up the cuffs of his jean multiple times. He snorts in response, sorting out his Daredevil suit. Natasha places hers with it.

“Can you see any sunglasses?” She goes back to the box and finds him a pair, plain and rectangular. “Thank you.” Matvei doesn’t say anything else, so Natalia doesn’t either, instead taking a seat on top of the box. Matvei paces.

It’s been half an hour and he’s still walking the length of the crate, and Natalia can’t take it anymore. “Can you stop?” His head snaps towards her. “Do something productive. Like help me plan our next step.”

He snarls at her, lips curling. “I’ve been planning for years. You messed with my plan.”

“What?”

He changes his voice into an American accent, heavily weighted and rough as he speaks, mirroring one of an old man as he quotes: “Friends make you weak; you’re weak, you’re dead, kid.” With the strong accent it takes Natalia a moment to translate the English words, but when she does, they hit her hard. This time he changes to Japanese, no doubt quoting someone else, but she doesn’t know Japanese. She doesn’t tell him. “Years, Natalia. You’re an adjustment.” Russian again, and he lets out a long sigh. “You’re my friend.”

She nods, because if she hasn’t had it drilled into her enough that friends are weaknesses. “So, what’s the next step?”

“We wait.”

“So let’s spar.” She’s up to her feat, facing him. They bow to each other, and Matvei goes for the first hit, tricking Natalia into dodging before kicking her in the stomach exactly where she dodged to. She grins. They have to adjust to the moving vehicle quickly, and their fight is exhilarating for both parties, neither taking the win, both ending sweaty and out of breath.

“Again?” He asks.

“How do you do it?” She asks, instead of a reply. “You don’t even look at me half the time.”  
He throws his head back, laughing. “I’m blind. I can’t look at you any of the time.” The clothes make sense now. “Again?”

She grins. “Ok.” The container comes to a stop during their third round, and Natalia jumps to hide once again, but Matvei grabs her wrist to stop her. “You know them?”

“I know the person opening the crate.” A boy, around their age, slightly larger in proportions opens the crate. It’s his clothes she figures they’re wearing. “Hawkeye.”

“Daredevil.” He says, serious enough for Natalia to reach for a knife. Once again, Matvei stops her and Hawkeye grins. “So, this is the infamous Black Widow.” His voice is a little too loud, and slightly slurred as he holds out his hand to shake hers. She shakes it.

“Infamous?” He looks to Matvei who looks to Natalia.

“Clint’s deaf. He can’t lipread Russian, and only knows the basics anyway. He knows ASL.”

“And you don’t?” She asks, slightly surprised. It’s been one of the languages enforced from the beginning. He gestures to his face.

“Replaced it with extra ballet lessons, because apparently I have too much of a temper.” That rumour, she has heard about the Boy in the Mask. “Now you’re here, you can translate. Clint, fake IDs; did you get them?” He shakes his head. “What?”

“The man, he said he’d only deal with you personally. I did steal that dude’s cane though, wasn’t easy, his girlfriend was basically on guard through the whole night.” He lifts crates from a different pile and opens it up, taking out three rucksacks, a cane, and a quiver full of arrows and a bow like Natalia has never seen before. “Suits in these. There’s some water and clean underwear already packed. Let’s go.”

“Thank you.” Matvei and Natalia say and sign respectively. He nods, and jumps out, closely followed by the pair, and closes up the crate.

“Did you find it?!” A voice yells, and Matvei curses, nudging Natalia. She signs it to Clint.

“Yeah thanks! I’m just gonna go to the loo!”

“Hurry up!” Natasha signs this to Clint, and he smirks, gesturing for them to follow him. They escape the layby, still cloaked in darkness, but after a ten-minute run of the pair keeping Matvei steady on his feet, he speaks up.

“This is wrong. Smells like city that way.” He points ahead. Natalia translates.

“We need the IDs. We won’t have enough time if we run the whole way. We’re hotwiring a car.” That answer seems acceptable, and they continue on their way through some Russian landscape Natalia hasn’t had the honour of seeing in all the years she’s lived here. “That one.” Matvei points when they reach a carpark. “There’re spare keys.”

“I can’t drive.” Clint realises, perhaps a little too late.

“Don’t look at me.”

Natalia grins. “See what making friends does?”

“Not really.” She laughs and jumps into the driver’s seat, and Matvei gets in the passenger, taking out the keys straight away. Clint sits in the middle back seat, taking the bags chucked at him as they take off, Natalia driving away like a wild maniac.

“We just stole a car.”

“Won’t be the last thing we’re stealing.” Matvei answers, turning to face Clint and it seems Clint gets it because he grins. “Can you give directions?” He does, and with only one wrong turn, they reach the intended street in the city. The first thing Natalia notes is that it’s run down, covered in graffiti, and filled with hollering street criminals. However nobody gives them any trouble, instead backing away from them at the sound of Matvei’s tapping cane. Clint opens the door to the shop, ringing the bell on entrance.

“I already told you I won’t deal without the Devil.”

“Good job the Devil’s here.” He folds up his cane. “I left a hefty deposit, Viktor. IDs, now. We’re on a schedule.” Three cards are passed over, and Matvei immediately hands them to Natalia who looks through them.

“They’re good.” She notes, her eyebrows raised an inch or two as she inspects them carefully.

“Best in the business.” Viktor boasts, only to have his head slammed down on the desk.

“Hearing aids, what you got?” A pair of hearing aids are provided, whether they work or not is a mystery. A lump of cash is dumped on the table. “Weapons.” He leads them through to the back, where Natalia takes an interest in his collection of guns and Clint in the arrows. “I need a new wire.” Viktor leads him to grappling wires, and Natalia watches with interest as he feels with each one presented, a focussed expression on his face until he takes one from Viktor’s hands, stretching it, feeling the weight of it. “This one.” He takes out his billy clubs and changes the retractable wire between them.

“It’s new stock.”

“Great. Natalia wants the two Glocks, Clint wants ten arrows, his choice.”

“You don’t have enough money for that.” Matvei snarls. “I can make it work.” He switches to English. “Should’ve dealt with Birdman.”

“Hawkeye.” Natalia deduces the hearing aids work well enough for insults to be picked up.

“Didn’t think you were the real deal. Too American.” Natalia snorts, and Clint glares at her. Matvei doesn’t look so happy either. To prove it, he picks a sai from the side on the way out without Viktor’s knowledge. He thanks the man, hugging him before they go back to the car, Natalia driving and following Clint’s directions once again.

“Can we put on the music?” Clint groans from the back, and Matvei turns on the radio, a CD playing starting from halfway through a song. Neither Matvei nor Natalia recognise it, but Clint starts singing along instantly, ‘dancing’ by himself in the back. “How do you not know these?” He groans after the third song.

Matvei smirks. “We just didn’t know the first one.” Clint continues to whine.

“Then why aren’t you joining in?”

“I’m blocking it out. The cops are catching up with us and we need to ditch the car.”

“The fuck.” Natalia states, slamming the accelerator. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Matvei shrugs. “I’ve never been in a car chase.” That seems to please Clint who cheers, and Natalia just slams her head on the steering wheel because she’s stolen a car with two idiots. But her action sets off the horn which makes Matvei slam his hands over his ears, hissing in pain.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok; slow here. There’s a junction coming up soon.” She follows his orders, but instead of a junction coming up, she hears the sirens near, and soon the cops’ car has come into view. Natalia glances over to see Matvei smirk.

“You little devil.” Clint laughs, and the chase is on, Clint shouting out directions as they come, Natalia nearly crashing the car three times due to delayed instructions, and Matvei, the little shit, is just grinning the whole time.

“Clint, shoot the tyres?” He asks eventually, when they’re running out of petrol and the cops are getting a little too close for comfort. Natalia wants to scream at him for not doing it earlier, but she’s never been in a car chase either… but it was pretty fun. Matvei grins. “They just cursed us.”

“What did they say?” His grin only widens.

“You don’t want to know.” They get to their destination, which turns out to be an airport. But instead of going through the main doors, Matvei tilts his head to the side and brings them around to the side of the building to a small shed-like building. “The guy here will do this for free if we play it right. We just need to annoy him as much as possible.”

“Play with the language barriers.” Matvei and Clint nod in agreement. “What are the rules on weapons?”

“Use them, the cops will be here in seconds.” So they enter, creating a chain of translation between Russian to German to ASL, but that’s not annoying the man enough. So they up the antics, acting stupid and childish, which she now knows for sure is second nature for Matvei and Clint. It makes sense why they’re friends, though she can’t work out how they became them. Annoy now, questions later.

It takes Clint trying to get the guy’s opinion on pizza toppings and how much they should order to get him to give in. “These IDs, German passports.” He passes the fake IDs over, and the guy sorts through them. “And I need a notebook.”

“That’s what shops are for.” He shrugs, and the three teens take their seats, waiting patiently for the passports. But something seems to catch Matvei’s attention as he cocks his head to the side.

“Cops are here. Found the car.” He whispers, staying focussed, then lets out a sigh of relief. “They have no clue who was in the car, just that they have a bow and arrow.”

“Because it’s not at all visible that Hawkeye here is carrying a quiver of arrows.”

“Not to me.”

“Clint Barton.” Clint says, fighting back a smile from the joke. “Clint is fine, though. You’re both very formal people, y’know that right?” She nods, and Matvei smirks. They get their passports, along with licenses for their weapons to get put into the hold of the plane. It’s the best the guy can do. With bags in the hold, pre-bought tickets, and a successful trip past security, the three are able to relax… just a little. “Matt, Matt! Pool table.” He grins. He folds up his cane and puts it in Natalia’s bag, walking besides the pair of them. Natalia notices without his cane, he’s a little more reserved, more focussed. Less Devil, no less Daredevil by the smirk on his face as they reach the table.

“Can I play?” He asks the group of early-morning drunks, playing for their betting money on the table. “Don’t have any money, but these sunglasses are worth somethin’ good.” They consider, and the game is reset, putting their best player up. Natalia knows it’s not much loss, the glasses are fakes, but they’re not his to gamble so she still worries. Clint’s not though, and they step to the side of the table.

“Heads or tails.”

“Heads.” Matvei goes first. He gets the two corner solids into either corner on the first shot.

“Solids.” Clint says, then stands to the table, pointing over which balls are his, narrating which is the black one, and where the white one has landed. With slight narrations between each shot, he clears the table in one sweep, leaving the group awed. Clint takes the prize money. “Jeez.”

“Another round?” The man says, my start?” Matvei shrugs.

“We’re on a schedule.” Natalia replies for him. “We’ll loop ‘round.” They leave the group who just cheer and start to play again. “Shopping?” They nod and split the money, going around the shops. Natalia gets a leather jacket and skinny jeans, Matvei gets a denim jacket, some gum, and a ‘soft feeling’ (leather) notebook and pen, and Clint gets food. So much food that Matvei actually voices his concerns about Clint’s health. They don’t get another round, instead they board the plane, before everyone else with workers there obsessing over helping Matvei. With his angry expression and death glares from Clint and Natalia, they back off.

“Heads up; I might go catatonic.” He says as they take their seats- Clint in the window, Matvei in the middle, Natalia in the aisle. It’s a statement that gets questions. “Just during take-off… my senses go into overdrive with the pressure change. Slap me if I’m unresponsive when the seatbelt signs are off; I’m probably just in shock at that point.” As warned, he goes into a catatonic state. Clint puts a hand on his shoulder, and Natalia takes his hand, squeezing it gently.

It makes up for the brutal slap she gives him when he’s still catatonic ten minutes after the seat belt sign. It doesn’t make a difference but does get alarmed looks from the people who were just cooing at them for being such supportive siblings. She slaps him again, and he jerks into reality, gripping onto her hand tightly. “That was not enough of a warning.” She says and slaps him again. It earns her a laugh.

“How long?”

“Half an hour.” He hums.

“Considerable.” Clint offers him a sour sweet, which he accepts. He doesn’t even flinch at the taste.

“You are a god.” Clint is in aww once again. Natasha steals one, and she gets the same response as she schools her features to mirror Matvei’s. “Ok, both of you are just psychos.” They give him fitting grins in response. Clint returns to looking out the window, Matvei takes out his notebook and Natalia leans back in her seat, closing her eyes.

She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but Matvei talking wakes her up. She looks up to see an airhostess offering food. “Coffee please.” She says. The air-hostess laughs.

“Seems to be the trend here.” Natalia notices Clint and Matvei holding their coffee cups. “Black and bitter?”

“You got it.” Once the woman leaves, Matt takes his notebook back out. She watches him write, carving the letters into the pages, handwriting falling off the lines and matching the writing of a seven-year-old’s… if they were writing with their wrong hand. “What are you writing?”

Natasha looks over to see ‘be in a car chase’ crossed out halfway down the third page. He grins. “A bucket list.”


	2. The Explosion

Clint grins as they pick up their bags from the conveyor belt, and the trio leave the airport without any trouble. “So, Matthaeus,” Clint says, unwinding a strawberry lace from around his hand, “what’s the plan now?”

“We’re getting someone out.”

“Out?” Natalie asks, raising her eyebrows as they walk. Matt hums, not caring to elaborate further. “So; plan?”

He grins, taking his notebook out of his pocket, already creased and coffee stained, the latter due to Clint’s clumsiness. The argument had the whole plane occupied for a good half hour. “We’re hot-wiring a car.”

“Stealing one wasn’t enough?”

“Hot-wiring.” He states because that’s all the difference. Matt finds an unlocked car, and Clint asks Natalia if she knows how to hot-wire a car. She doesn’t. With Clint’s panic, he starts to yell at her, but she points at Matt who’s sat in the front of the car, sniffing the wires, and listening to… something. He gets the car working. “Nat.” Natalia freezes at the nickname.

“Shit.” Clint whispers, and Matt grins at him. “You’re so dead, dude.”

“It saves mistakes, between Natalia, Natasha and Natalie. Like Matvei, Matthew and Matthaeus.” He explains, and if Clint isn’t mistaken, Natalia actually smiles. “Clint calls me Matt. You can too.”

“Ok.” Matt beams.  
Clint grins. “Matt, Nat, and Clint. The finest escape artists the world has ever seen.” Instead of sitting in the front, Matt sits with Clint in the back, taking out his notebook and crossing off ‘hot-wire a car’ and ‘give Natalia a nickname’. “Have you got anything to do with a hot air balloon?” He asks as he flips through the pages, running his fingers over the dented pages. ‘Ride a hot air balloon’ gets added to the list, and as Nat drives to the satnav programmed address, the three continue to add things to the list.

Clint didn’t know what he was expecting when they pull up to the destined address, but it was something along the lines of ‘damp smelly old warehouse’, or ‘super dodgy museum’, instead of the averagely decent diner they turn up too. “Clint; don’t speak or she’ll know you’re not German. Natalia, can you translate to ASL? The woman we’re meeting is Pakistani, has blue streaks in her hair, and should be wearing some sort of business suit.” Matt tells the pair before opening the door of the diner, and Nat points him in the right direction. They sit in the seats next to her without a word.

“Would you like any food? It’s on me?” She asks, in German, and when Nat translates, Clint has to bite his tongue from jumping at the offer.

“That would be great.” Matt replies, and his German accent apparently shocks Nat as well, as she turns to face him ever so slightly more. Clint wonders whether the teen is actually German, not Russian as they order food. “Do you have the files?” She pulls out a flash drive. “The ID badges?”

“I couldn’t fake them; however I could reactivate your old tag.” Matt curses but picks up the offered lanyard. “Complete access.”

“How complete?”

“Matthaeus, who do you take me as?” He smiles, and Nat lets out a sigh of relief as she says: “highest ranking. This is my tablet.” She takes out an iPad, keyboard attached with braille labels on each letter. “Voice overs are on, here are the headphones.”

“I’ll leave it in Friedrich’s locker. It hasn’t changed?”

“As pungent as ever.” They eat in silence from then on, until Matt jumps from his seat, downing his drink.

“Thank you, Miss, but we must be going. Thank you for sticking to our arrangement, and the food as well.” They shake hands, and Nat and Clint shake hands with her as well, and they leave with their half ate hot dogs and fries wrapped in napkins. “The cops were coming.” Matt speaks in English now. “They found the car. No suspects.”

“So why didn’t we stay there?” Clint asks, trying to take a fry out of the tissue without dropping them to the ground.  
Nat leans over and helps before he can make a mess. “Because we need to avoid getting caught for things now, so that if we get caught in the future, it’s a separate mess to deal with.” That’s reasonable, Clint decides, no matter how much he’d rather still be sat in that nice Diner. “So, the plan part 3?”

“Part 6,” Matt corrects, “or part 7, if you count the stealing a car to get the fake IDs. But part 6 was for Hawkeye and me to break into a Hydra base.”

“Hydra?” Clint asks, eyeing Nat as she shifts uncomfortably in her movement, but instead of any questions he wants answering first, she skips to the realisation:

“You used to have ID at Hydra.” Matt nods, and he can’t tell if Nat would rather strangle or shoot him at this point. “You worked for them.”

“Kind of. My ID pass has been upgraded, but yes, I’ve worked for Hydra.” Clint grips onto Nat, who tries to lunge for Matt, but the blind boy just seems completely calm. It’s unhinging to say the least. “So, without you and Clint, I am going to break in, and break out, dragging the Winter Soldier out if it comes to it. You’re going to cover for me on the outside if any backup comes running.”

They end up doing just that. That night, fully dressed in uniforms, Clint and Nat hide outside the Hydra base, weapons at the ready as Matt smashes a diversion window and goes around to the main entrance, using his key card to get him inside. By Clint’s side, Natalia takes in a deep breath and asks, “did you know about this?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even know what Hydra is.” She opens her mouth to reply, but Hawkeye continues before she can respond. “If you spew some crap about me better off not knowing, I will shoot arrows where I’m certain you don’t want to be shot.”

“It’s a Nazi terrorist group aiming to achieve world domination.”

Clint just blinks. “Shit.” Someone new is being called over to investigate the broken window, but the pair hold off shooting for now. But Clint’s not sure if they should be helping Daredevil now, not if he has plans to come back here. He could double cross them at any minute.

Though that doesn’t seem to be the case, as two figures, one discernible as the Devil, the other unknown walk out of the building, looking slightly too confident, Clint would say… just as the base blows up behind them. Nat gasps slightly, and Clint’s jaw fully drops in surprise, and they stand out of their cover. If the pair were to hazard a guess, they’d say the pair were posing, as they confidently strolled in front of the destroyed burning, Matt flinging one of his billy clubs behind him to knock someone out, retracting it back with the wire and catching it like it was nothing. “What the hell, Matvei?!” Nat yells as they reach them, and he just offers her a shit-eating grin. “Black Widow, Hawkeye; the Winter Soldier.” He says. “Bucky; Clint and Natal- Natasha.” They shake hands, and Matt grabs Clint’s rucksack, then puts it down and takes his own, unzipping it and taking out his notebook. Clint laughs as ‘look badass walking in front of an explosion I (we) caused’ gets crossed off the list.

“You didn’t need us here for backup.” Clint whines. “You just wanted an audience for the dramatics.”

“No; I wanted an audience.” Winter Soldier/Bucky states. “This guy wanted to go full espionage on the escape.” They pick up their stuff and leave. “But our mission was to try to out Hydra, so fully fledged theatrics are definitely warranted.”

“It was a coincidence that it was on the bucket list.” Matt grins, putting his book away. “Bucky hadn’t told me he had the explosives rigged for weeks.” They all get changed, Clint not even bothering to ask where Matt managed to steal a whole set of clothes without him noticing. They’re a little small for Bucky, jeans stopping way above the ankles and t-shirt stuck to his skin. “They’re gaining consciousness, we need to move.” Matt says, moving faster to pull on his shoes, cursing at the laces.

By the way Matt curses, Clint assumes they don’t get as far as he would have liked when a cop is calling after them. Nat nudges him, reminding him to stay silent, before translating the officer’s words into ASL for him. “What are you kids doing out this late at night?” The officer asks them, and Clint wants to believe it’s her being nice… but then again, he has to admit this is suspicious. A building blew up not too far from here, only a few minutes ago. It is totally reasonable for her to think they did it. Until Clint notices her pitiful gaze as she glances across them… he has to admit they make quite a team- a boy with one arm, one who can’t see, one who can’t hear and a girl who so far hasn’t lifted her death glare from the woman. Matt and Bucky’s poorly fitting clothes are sure to bring questions, too. “I’ll walk you home.”

Nat shakes her head. “No thank you, officer.”

“It is pretty dark out. It would be nice to not worry about getting jumped on the walk back.” Matt says, and Clint’s too busy wondering why Double D is now suddenly hopeful of getting help from the cops to pick up on the joke until a few moments of reluctant walking later.  
He groans. “Are you ok?” The officer asks, and after Nat translates, he nods.

“’It’s pretty dark out’. Great reasoning.” Nat translates that back to the officer, and Matt smirks as the gaze turns to him.

“You little shit.” Nat says and he only laughs. The officer looks uncomfortable, and Bucky’s just laughing, whether at the joke or the woman, Clint’s not entirely sure. Eventually they reach a building where Matt stops and offers a smile in the cop’s general direction. “Thanks for walking us home.” Nat says, and after a ‘thank you’ and ‘goodnight’ from each of them, the cop leaves whilst Matt fishes out a keychain. He clicks his fingers by the door before picking out a key and letting them in.

“That’s a neat trick.” Clint says and Matt beams. They make themselves at home, putting their clothes and suits in the wash, before going upstairs to find clothes. Clint finds himself to be the only one uncomfortable being stark naked in his new friends’ presence but tries not to show it when none of them say anything. He notices quickly that all of them share bodies used like canvases for maniac, violent artists. “Huh, this is lucky.” Clint says, pulling on some underwear. They’ve landed themselves in a house with a two bedrooms, one which Clint assumes the parents sleep in, and another occupied by twins he guesses by the photos. One boy and one girl, probably about their age.

“I don’t think it’s luck.” Nat says as she opens the closet with the name ‘Wanda’ stuck to it with coloured red bricks. “Woah, these people are rich.” Clint looks into the closet to see the clothes made up of a majority of beautiful formal dresses, and then looks over Bucky’s shoulder into the one labelled ‘Pietro’ to find it full of a majority of suits.

“We’re staying the night.” Matt says. “We have a day’s rest.” So in clean, stolen, underwear, Matt and Nat go to sleep in the parents’ room whilst Clint and Bucky take the twin room. It doesn’t take Clint long after taking his aids out to fall asleep, completely exhausted.

When he wakes up, it’s two in the afternoon, and Bucky isn’t in the bed next to him. He saunters into the parents’ room to find all three of his companions asleep in a pile on the bed, bandages being used to tie Matt down underneath the two. He briefly wonders what he missed, before shrugging and going downstairs. Unlike the past day and a half, this afternoon, Clint decides, is turning out to be surprisingly domestic as he hangs the washing to dry on the airer and then moves into the kitchen to make breakfast. He makes toast. A lot of toast. And there’s a luxurious selection of jams and marmalades to choose from. He also makes a large pot of black coffee.

Barely moments after the coffee pot has boiled, the three sleeping teens make their way down the stairs, Bucky with a slightly noticeable limp and Natalia with newly formed bruises covering her torso. None of the three look well-rested, with bags under their eyes… though he can’t be certain for Matt because of the glasses. The slow movements make him assume they’re there. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing.” Three sets of lips move in sync with Nat signing the word as well. As they take their seats, Bucky guiding Matt to one, he notices a new scar complete with stitches on Matt’s back which wasn’t there the night before. He raises an eyebrow, so Nat begins to sign as a sheepish looking duo begin to eat their toast. “Matt screams and thrashes in his sleep,” she gestures to body, “Bucky tried to kill Matt, and I accidentally sprained Bucky’s ankle when we were tying him, Matvei, to the bed.”

“So, an average night.” Clint says in an optimistic, ideally sarcastically, tone, but he assumes those words are going to turn out to be close to the truth.

“We leave Germany tonight, and we are going to Afghanistan.”

“Afghanistan.” Nat repeats and Matt hums in affirmation. “Why?”

“Do you have anywhere you’d rather go?”

“Venice.” It actually looks like Matt considers changing his plans, but he shakes his head. “Why Afghanistan?”

“Another… friend. We’ve never met, only spoke over a hacked radio line.” There are so many questions! “Let’s get ready.” They go upstairs, and Nat is the first to open the wardrobe, running her fingers across the array of dresses. “Dress nice. Nat, can you pick me out a good suit? I’ll be back.” He doesn’t leave time for questions, so Clint shrugs and picks out a grey suit with a black shirt and tie while Nat claims the shower first. Clint claims it next, followed by Bucky, and by the time they’re all dressed- Nat in a black dress what looks like it could be made for her, unlike the almost matching suits which are slightly too small for Clint and Bucky- Matt still hasn’t returned. When he does, he’s grinning, bleeding, and out of breath.

“What the hell did you do?” Bucky asks.

“New IDs.” He chucks them onto the bed, and Nat picks them up. “The guy tried to lie and get out of doing the work; told me they were our faces. Didn’t go down well.”

“For you or for him?” Nat asks, painting her last nail black. “Your suit is on the bed.”

“Him. I had to let him hit me first. What colour is it?”

“Dark grey, white shirt, black tie, black shoes. Go shower.”

He nods, before tilting his head to the side, concentrating, and then says: “the families’ cases are in the cupboard under the stairs. We’re packing this time.” So while he gets ready, the three take out four cases, putting in underwear and clothes for themselves thanks to Pietro and Wanda, as well as packing their now dry gear from downstairs.

“The suit’s too big.” Nat tells Matt as she’s folding up a green dress, and Bucky’s passing Clint his own clothes back from the airer. “But better than Clint’s clothes. Why are we rich American’s now?”

“We’re Americans because two and a ‘kind of’ of us are anyway, and our final destination will be America. We won’t need to change identities again. I hope you like being Natasha Romanoff, Natalia.”

“So, what, are you just going to ignore being Matvei Romanov? I gave you my name, I thought we were close, brother and sister, partners in crime, et cetera. But what, you’ve just picked up some random name? Where’s the meaning there, Murdock?”

“It was my dad’s surname.” It’s quiet for a bit, and Clint’s thinking about saying something soothing, but he’s not sure he can relate. His dad’s a dick, not whatever Matt’s is. He breathes out when Nat finds something to say.

“That’s the surname you lost?” He hums. “How did you lose it?”

“There was a thing.”

“What thing?”

“An ‘it doesn’t matter’ thing!” He yells, punching the wall. His knuckles, already bruised from beating up the ID guy, start to bleed. “There was a thing, and I got, it got deleted. I have a chance of being Matthew Murdock now, but I will always be Matvei Romanov. Doesn’t matter what it says on the outside,” he exhales a short breath of air, “I can’t read it anyway.”

There’s a pause where Nat relaxes, breathing out a brief, amused huff of air. “So you are American then?” Bucky asks, “because I’ve been torn between believing you were Japanese and Spanish... maybe you were born in Spain and moved to Japan- I didn’t want to offend you.”

“I thought you were Russian.” Nat says.

“I’ve been arguing with myself if you were German since the diner. I literally just decided you were because what else are showers for?” Matt just wipes the blood off his hands. Instead Nat hacks into a charged phone and looks up the name origin of Murdock.

“You’re British?”

“At this point I could be anything.” Clint’s heart does a thing in which he thinks this identity crisis is about to go south, but instead Matt smirks. “I could be Bucky. Or Clint. Or you.” He delivers each sentence in perfect impressions of the three teens in the room.

“That is so cool.” Clint gasps.

“I’m Irish-American, born in New York.” He shifts uncomfortably in the suit he’s wearing, and it looks like it suddenly doesn’t fit him better than Clint’s clothes anymore. “I travel.”

“No kidding.” Bucky says. “So, Matthaeus, what’s your accent like?” Matt opens his mouth, ready to speak, but then he curses in Russian- enough to make Nat start laughing. “You don’t have to. We like your German accent.”

“I prefer your Russian one.” Nat contradicts.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Thick Russian accent. Nat grins. Upper class clothing on, suitcases in hand, backpacks repacked with food, the four leave the house.

“Wait!” Clint calls at the end of the street. “I forgot my arrows!” He runs back, retrieves the arrows, and catches up with his companions. “What’s next in the plan?”

“Nat, can you drive a motorbike?” She nods, confirming this and Matt beams. “We’re stealing bikes.” He takes out his notebook and crosses off ‘hotwire a motorbike’ before he even does it. Nat ties the cases to the bikes, and Matt finishes the second bike just as the owner? comes out of the house, spewing German insults and threats at them. Matt replies with his own German words, Clint only making out the curse words, and flips them off before finishing the bike. “Go!” He yells. Clint jumps on a bike with Bucky, and Matt with Nat, and they drive off, the man running behind them.

“He knows our faces!” Bucky shouts over to their bike.

“The bikes are stolen property anyway!” Nat calls back and Matt puts his thumb up.

“Street racing is on my bucket list!” He shouts, not what Clint was expecting, but definitely what he’s glad was said.

Nat and Bucky glance at each other briefly, and Clint is savvy of the ‘it’s on’ moment. Matt clarifies they’re going back to the airport, and the race begins. Clint screams and grips onto Bucky’s waist. “Dude, you’re going to have to be my other arm!” He yells, and Clint swears his heart stops. But Bucky yells what to do, and after adjusting their positions slightly and practice, they’re catching Nat up, earning themselves three near misses and thousands of horns being blasted their way. Clint sees Matt throw his head back and laugh as they nearly drive straight into a car on the wrong side of the road.

“Stupid blind Matt problems.” He mutters under his breath, and Matt only laughs harder. Nat hits him, and it’s fair to say that doesn’t help the problem. But it does help theirs, as Bucky overtakes them on the inside, and pulls into the airport a second before them. “In your face suckers!” Clint yells, jumping off the bike. “We win!” Nat kicks the bike. Bucky and Clint high-five. Matt just grins.


	3. The Extraction

Their rich outfits serve them much better than their previous working class appearance, which has Matthaeus sporting colourful words at the staff in the airport along with countless arguments Bucky believes should be hand delivered and shoved in the faces of dumb politicians and prestigious companies all over the world. He thinks Nat’s about to stop him when they get to the fifth attendant to offer them help, and be polite about it, when instead she’s just as bad. It’s Clint who finally stops them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and just telling Matthaeus to file a letter of complaint later. He beams at the idea.

“Is that our flight?” Bucky points at the board, looking to Matthaeus for a response. He turns his head slowly to face Bucky, who realises his mistake immediately.   
“The 18.20?”

“No; we’ve got hours yet. It’s a private jet, boarding at midnight. We’re here early for an interview.”

“Interview?” Clint asks, gulping. Matthaeus nods and cocks his head to the side.

“This way.” He leads them to a staff only room and knocks on the door. “Jarvis? Daredevil.” He pauses and drops his voice to a whisper. “Matvei Romanov.” The door swings open, and the four walk into the room, and it’s empty, feel good pop music playing in the background.

“Daredevil- Mr Romanov, I wasn’t expecting so many of you.”

“This is my sister, Natalia Romanova.”

Bucky catches sight of the security camera and turns to face it. “Mr Barnes, Mr Barton; my name is JARVIS, I am Mr Stark’s AI, serving his son Tony who is currently not in communication with me in Afghanistan. I am on orders to await the three of you and answer directly to Mr Romanov in his absence. It is good to see you have acquired a name of address, sir.”

“I prefer Matvei. Why is Iron Man not in communication?” He walks over to a table, and Bucky follows, opening the box with his name on it. Inside is a face mask and a small metal strip.

“The cause is undetermined, but I have reason to believe his communication device has received serious damage.”

“So he could be dead?” Matthaeus asks.

“That is one possibility, yes.” Bucky doesn’t quite know what to say, just watches as his old partner’s/trainer’s knuckles whiten around his cane. “Though, Mr. Stark is clever, and I like to assume he has followed the plan you had previously arranged with him. I suggest you go ahead with the interview and board the flight as planned.”

“If he is ok, it would be unfair to leave your friend waiting on us.” Bucky decides. “We weren’t in contact.”

“It’s not the same.” Matthaeus says, putting his cane on the table. “I’d had a year to map out that base. I had someone on the inside, too.” Bucky looks to Clint and Natasha for help.

“It is the same.”

“It’s not.” Natasha argues, and Bucky wants to strangle her. “That’s a lot of recon work, incredibly useful. Going into unchartered territory for a poorly planned mission is almost certain to end in death. We have no advantage.”

“All I know is that it’s a war zone. Full of weapons.”

“Well, that’s even better.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

Bucky puts a hand on Matthaeus’ shoulder and forces him to face him, to give Bucky the allusion of looking him straight in the face. Selfish, but necessary. He hopes the close contact pushes the message across. “Ours was a war base, full of weapons. You had some sort of plan with me, we lost contact, and we still did it anyway. I had to trust you, Matthaeus.”

“You’ve always trusted me. Why?” Bucky pauses. He didn’t trust Matthaeus at first, in fact, when a kid- a year younger than him- was coming to train him, all he wanted to do was kill him. But Matthaeus became a partner, and in the end Bucky’s escape was thrust into his hands. He had to let Matthaeus programme his trigger words. He had to trust he’d put in a cancel. He had to trust Matthaeus would come back after years of undisclosed absence. He had to trust Matthaeus’ instinct.

“Because I had to.” Matthaeus nods, but Bucky’s not done. “It’s only because you pulled through every time that I trust you now. You need to pull through for your friend in Afghanistan, and you have to trust him to keep to his promises too. Trust works both ways.”

“The interviews go ahead. Natalia, take this. I don’t need a voice box.” They pull on the face masks and attach the voice boxes, each looking several years older. “Cards for the interviews. Don’t go off script. Nat, address questions like us- we are putting an end to the weapon manufacturing side of Stark Industries and getting the media off Stark and son’s backs for as long as possible, so we need to satisfy interviewers without providing information about a new direction. We can’t, and this is important- it cannot seem like we are keeping secrets.”

Natasha rolls her eyes again. “Between us there’s whatever you are, an assassin, soldier and marksman.” Matthaeus hums. “I don’t think keeping secrets is going to be unnatural.”

“There is still one problem, Matvei, sir; Miss Romanova still looks like herself. If you are on the run, that is going to serve a future problem if she is recognised on international television.”

“I’ll get you a disguise, Nat.” Clint says and leaves the room, returning half an hour later with an abundance of makeup, glasses, and a wig. Bucky didn’t realise wigs were sold at airports, but he’s not going to question it. Especially when Matthaeus’ nose wrinkles as he waves it victoriously. “Ta da!”

Disguises set, SI identity tags on, the four go out to a restaurant for their meal, arranged for by Jarvis. The media approaches them instantly, their ‘tip-off’ proving useful. Some journalists do their interviews during the meal, and it proves to be good practice for Bucky and Clint who watch Matthaeus and Natasha play the press flawlessly. Bucky wonders how much practice acting the pair have had, then decides he’d rather not think about it. Ever. They eventually finish their meals, and somebody working at the airport comes to escort them to a private room.

“Good evening, Sirs, Ma’am. If you wouldn’t mind coming this way?”

“Of course.” Natasha says, with a polite smile, and offers her arm to Matthaeus who takes it, giving the man a charming smile of his own.

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” He says, accent shifting ever so slightly, edging slightly towards sounding Russian from the adult American tone he has previously been using. Natasha seems to notice this too as Bucky notices her nudge him gently. “I realise it is highly unorthodox to be having an interview such as this at an airport, especially one as busy as this.” Back to perfect.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Mr. Stark explained that you are working on an incredibly tight schedule.” Bucky can’t help but smirk at how much this employee is adjusting to Matthaeus’ level of formality. It’s kind of funny, knowing they’re all teenagers.

“I apologise, anyway.” It gets a smile from the employee.

“Steps coming up. Three of them.” Natasha narrates, and they reach the room quickly, and the interview takes place. Clint and Bucky stick to the cards, word for word, and Natasha’s language is a perfect fit around them. In fact, she almost leads the interview, winning over the news reporter instantly. The personal level they’ve reached is admirable.

Bucky keeps glancing at Matthaeus, and he keeps tilting his head ever so slightly, keeps adjusting his position with each question he answers, keeps fiddling with his glasses, just a little. Bucky wants to say that he’s nervous, but then each following question the interviewer asks is softer, more understanding, and then he realises he’s manipulating her. He’s working his responses around whatever unseen body language she’s projecting and angling the interview deliberately around Natasha.

It’s him who ends the interview. They all thank the interviewer, she thanks them, and they all leave to wait for their jet. “This wig is so itchy. Where did you get it?” Natasha asks Clint, and Bucky watches her forcing her hands to stay away from it.

“You don’t want to know.” Matthaeus tells her and leaves it at that. It reaches midnight and they board the jet. “Morning Jarvis.” He lifts his suitcase up into the overhead lockers. They all follow suit.

“Good morning, Matvei, Miss Romanoff, Mr Barton, Mr Barnes.” Bucky watches Matthaeus, who takes out a notebook and flips through the pages, running his fingers along the writing. He wonders if Matthaeus has, or maybe had, a younger sibling. That is until he takes out a pen and starts crossing things out. ‘Street racing’ is on the list, as is ‘cause government chaos’, which Bucky struggles to make out.

“Government chaos?” He asks, earning the attention from the bickering duo in the corner. “Matthaeus, what did you do?”

Matthaeus beams. “Matvei, this is serious.” Natasha takes the notebook from him. “Which government? How did you do it? We’ve been with you the whole time.”

“The interview.” Clint says. “You said something, your accent slipped into Japanese, I think, for a split second.” His beam widens. Jarvis announces that they are about to take off. Natasha puts down the book on the table and sits next to Matthaeus, taking his hand in hers, and Clint sits opposite him, next to Bucky. “He’s going to go catatonic.”

“Catatonic? What do you mean ‘catatonic’?” Turns out Clint means Catatonic. Bucky doesn’t know what to do. He can feel his heart speeding up, feel his hands going sweaty. Nobody says anything.

Twenty minutes pass. “Mr. Romanov is no longer in a catatonic state, his vitals suggest he is perfectly healthy.” Jarvis’ voice rings out through the plane. “I suggest attempting to wake him up.” Natasha slaps him across the face.

“What the hell?!” Bucky exclaims, jumping to his feet. Matt jerks awake.

“Good morning Matvei, the current time is 00:38, and we are currently five hours and fifty-seven minutes away from your destination.” Matt turns his head, not focusing on anything. “I am programmed into the jet, unlike in the airport, my origin isn’t located in one object.”

“What should I be facing, then?” He asks, and Bucky frowns.

“There is no one thing to face when talking to me, most just talk straight into the room.”

“Isn’t that rude?”

“I am an AI, that does not matter to me.” Matthaeus tilts his head, then turns to face a panel at the back of the jet. “You seem to have located my main speaker.”

“Yeah, umm, Jarvis. Is there any paper?”

“Mr. Stark’s folders are located in the back of the aircraft.”

“I’ll get it.” Natasha says, returning quickly with a small stack of paper and some pens. She lays them out on the table. “Here.” She taps a pen gently against Matthaeus’ hand and he beams. Clint snatches one from her, and Bucky thanks her politely when she passes the last one to him. “So, what’s the plan?”

“This is where Tony is being held.” Matthaeus draws a wonky rectangle, not connecting the corner properly. He places his fingers on it. “He is surrounded by an unknown amount of people,” he draws some irregular ‘X’s surrounding the rectangle, “surrounded by multiple weapons. Guns. Explosives.” Circles are added to the diagram, one falling off the edge of the paper. “Whoops. Sorry, Jarvis.”

“It is no problem.”

“In this room with Tony, there is one other man, helping him.” A question mark inside the rectangle. “He’s a liability- a risk of being double crossed, or he could be a saviour to this operation.”

“We assume the worst, hope for the best.” Natasha says, and he nods. “Where do we land?”

“Tony’s base isn’t the only one. There are several smaller ones surrounding it. If we’re too low, we’ll trigger the sensors.” Matthaeus draws onto the plans, measuring the distance between his fingers. “Apart from this, it’s all open desert.”

“So if he can escape from these, we can just pick him up?”

“We’ll still trigger the alarm system. The aim isn’t just to get him out, it’s to get him out with no trace. No evidence of us ever being there. We have to know exactly where he’ll be before we initiate any extraction plan.” Clint groans. Natasha’s expression suggests she shares that opinion.

“What have you had planned with Tony?”

“Clint’s the best marksman. The plan was to send him, you, down on a parachute, and you would shoot out any life-threatening weapons and disable enough people in the nearest base to us. That would give us enough time without a warning to get closer to the middle through this one created blank spot.”

“Was?” Bucky asks. “What’s changed?”

“Tony. If Tony’s dead down there, there’s no guarantee Clint will be able to get back up to us. Without Tony’s tech do distract that outer base, Clint could also get shot before he even has chance to open the ‘chute.”

There’s a long pause. “How disposable is Clint?” Natasha asks. Clint’s eyes widen.

There’s another pause before Matthaeus answers. It goes on for too long for anyone to be comfortable. “Clint’s necessary for the next extraction in Sokovia.”

“There’s more people?”

“I travel, ok?!” Bucky looks down at his hands. “We’re not sending Clint down.”

“So, what’s the plan then?” Bucky asks. Matthaeus starts drawing lines across the paper, marking them with different thicknesses, crossing them out, starting again, and he works in silence for two hours until he makes a satisfying click of the pen signalling that he’s done. “Jarvis, statistics?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Romanov, I cannot discern your final plan from your drawings.” Matthaeus runs his hands along the papers and blushes, just a little.

“I’m going to take out the base.”

Bucky nods. “Do you need a gun?”

“No. No killing.” Everybody nods. “I’m not going to open the parachute until the very last second, I’m going to dodge the bullets, and I’m going to take out the main weapons with my Billy clubs.”

“Chances of survival?” Natasha asks.

“Low.” She nods. “Clint, you’ll stay up here, look out for Tony. He’ll be wearing a suit made of Iron. With your grappling hook, and hopefully his thrusters, you’ll get him up here. Nat, Bucky; you’re responsible for destroying any Stark weapons on the main base.”

“The sensors.” Bucky says.

“Assuming I survive the drop, I’ll disable them.”

“You can’t perceive screens.” Bucky points out, and Matthaeus grins. The heartrates surrounding him spike. “So screens either will or won’t be relevant, and you’ll disable the alarm.”

“At exactly 7:02, you will have a ten-minute window to get in and out unseen. Any damage you caused will all prove to be accidental.”

“Extraction plan?”

“With Tony, above the base. Without Tony, run into the open plane. I’ll be there somewhere.”

“Who’s piloting the plane?” Bucky asks, that finally kicking in.

“That would be me, Mr. Barnes.” Jarvis speaks up. “Though Mr. Barton will take over during the search as I will not be able to scan for you in the desert.”

“I can’t fly a plane!” Clint exclaims.

“I can.” Bucky says. “That was the initial plan, wasn’t it?” Matt nods. “Ok, I’ll teach you Clint, come on.” They enter the cockpit, and Bucky hears the sigh of a defeated Matthaeus before Natasha starts speaking Russian. He turns his attention to the job at hand and spends the next three hours teaching Clint how to fly. He’s a quick learner, but it won’t be enough. Nowhere near enough.

The plane comes to an automatic stop, and the pair leave the cockpit and change into their suits. Bucky decides quickly that they look like kids going to a Halloween party. “Ready?” Natasha asks Matthaeus, and he nods, putting the parachute on.

“Come for me last. If you search for more than fifteen minutes, I’m dead. Leave. Head to Sokovia; there’ll be someone to meet you at the airport. They’ll be looking for a Mr. Murdock.”

“Is that all we get?” Natasha asks as he covers his face with the helmet. “You’re going to die, Matvei, and we don’t even know how many people you have left to save. You travel.”

“I’ve never been to Afghanistan before.” Matthaeus says, softly. “It’ll be nice, to die somewhere new.” Natasha hits him. He stands at the edge of the plane, balancing perfectly, ready to fall out. He cocks his head to the side, and Bucky looks in the direction of his ear to the notebook on the table.

“We’ll finish it.” Bucky tells him. “Your rescue mission, your bucket list. We’ll finish it.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t wait for a reply- just falls forward. Jarvis shuts the door.

The plane keeps high, flying to the middle base. While they wait for their window, Natasha flips through the pages of Matt’s book. “’Become the Avengers’.” She reads the last one Matthaeus got up to writing. “We can do that.” She says. “We are the Avengers, us four, right now.”

“Five with Tony.” Clint points down through the window, grinning at the sight of the metal suit.

“It is 7:02.” Jarvis announces.

Bucky and Nat jump out the plane, landing just outside the base. “We use the detonators.” Nat points to some chests marked “explosives”. They knock out two soldiers easily, and begin to set up explosives all around, staying out of sight.

“Matthaeus is alive.” Bucky suddenly realises. “No alarm system.” Nat grins, and they continue their mission, hope driving them forward.

“It’s been nine minutes. We need to get out of here.” They look for the jet, where Clint is lowering himself down on a grappling hook and shooting an arrow with something attached to it to them. Boots. “You go first.” Nat instructs Bucky, who puts on the boots which burst to life, flying him upwards. Clint catches him, and fires the boots back down to Nat. She follows suit, detonating the bombs behind her.

“Two blown up facilities in only a couple of days.” Clint grins. “We’re awesome.” They don’t hang around, Tony pulling them up into the jet. They exchange quick greetings, and Clint turns the plane around, flying back over the blind spot and into the desert, keeping his eyes peeled for Matthaeus. Everybody’s anxious, looking for the red cladded hero with.

“There are three minutes remaining.” Jarvis speaks up. Hearts shatter. Hope is lost.

“Screw that.” Clint yells. “We’ll just keep circling. We’ll find him.” Bucky nods next to him, co-piloting the plane. Natasha and Tony both see some red at the same time.

“There!” They yell. Jarvis opens the door, Clint gets ready with his bow and arrow, but all that’s there is one red boot and a trail of blood.


	4. The Interim

Tony doesn’t know how to introduce himself to these people. The only person here he’s spoken to is MIA, and even then, he’d only spoken to the Devil over a makeshift radio. “Jarvis, I can make something. Some tech, see if we can find Daredevil with a scan.”

“I am sorry sir, but Daredevil’s standing command is that we reach Sokovia immediately. We only had a fifteen-minute gap.”

“I don’t understand.” The redheaded girl speaks up, placing the notebook she’s been gripping. “We were in Germany, much closer to Sokovia than where we are now.” The boy with one arm nods, his long hair falls in front of his face.

“The Devil’s practical. We came here first for a reason.” All three people turn to face Tony, and he cowers into his seat. He’s been kidnapped for months, and three teenagers his own age are scaring him much more than those soldiers did. “You’re Tony.”

“Iron Man, yeah.” He scratches the back of his head. “How d’you know my name?” They exchange glances.

“Daredevil was calling you Tony the whole time.”

“Only after I had used your name, sir.” Jarvis gives some input, and Tony relaxes a little, but the girl stands up, leans across the table, and looks straight into his eyes.

“He wouldn’t call you Tony like he was unless he knew you. What aren’t you telling us?”

“Black Widow calm down. It’s not Tony’s fault.” Ok, so everybody’s calling him Tony now. “Something’s not right here.”

“I agree.” Tony says. “I don’t know what happened, but I know the bow and arrow person wasn’t supposed to be here yet and I know you shouldn’t exist.” He points at the girl.

“That’d be me. Hawkeye.” The blonde guy says. “This is the Black Widow, and the Winter Soldier.” Hawkeye points to each one in turn. “Tell us the plan, Tony.”  
They sure know how to play with power. Tony recites the times they stuck to, saying he only knew of two other people coming. One to disable an outer base, one to keep the plane out of sight and ready for an escape, and Daredevil was supposed to switch places with Tony and destroy the base. His escape was to use the boots as Black Widow and the Winter soldier did, perhaps from the desert if they couldn’t get away quick or discreetly enough from the main base.

“So, he had planned an escape?” Black Widow clarifies, and Tony nods. She slams her fists on the table before standing and walking completely composed to the toilet.

“They were close.” Hawkeye offers. “I’m not sure how, but the Devil took her surname. I think recently.”

“Brother and sister.” The Winter Soldier clarifies, just as Black Widow leaves the toilet, looking completely fine. She joins down with them. “We should pray for him.” He tells her.

“Are you religious?” Widow asks him.

“Protestant. He was Catholic, though.” Hawkeye raises his eyebrows.

“Daredevil was Catholic?! Have you seen him in action?”

“Yes.” The other two answer. “What do we pray for?” Widow asks. “That he’s ok? That he goes to heaven? That they kill him if they haven’t already?” She glances at Tony. “Sorry.” He just nods, and they all shut their eyes under Winter’s command, and he prays for the Devil. He prays that he’s ok, and he prays that he treats everyone how they deserve. He prays that he beats them all to a pulp and meets them in Sokovia.

Three hours into the flight, Tony’s drifting to sleep, but Widow clicks her fingers to keep him awake. “We’re planning. You must know something.”

He nods. “I do.” He looks at the pen covered paper, briefly wonders what happened, and turns them over without questioning. “Said he was vital in this case, something about fear toxins. He asked me if I had any experience in telepathic aids. I don’t, but he said it didn’t matter.”

“Is Daredevil telepathic?” Hawkeye asks, but Winter shakes his head.

“He has telepathic abilities, though. Can block telepaths and communicate with them easily. Had he mentioned meeting any telepaths?” Tony shakes his head. “Ok, the fear toxins? Why were they important?”

“He’s immune to them.” Tony says. “He wanted to share that ability with us, so we could resist something. I don’t know what.” All in all, they get no planning done, and in Tony’s opinion there’s too much denial and not enough mourning. But who is he to voice those opinions? Jarvis says they should get changed; they’re landing soon. “Daredevil said he would be in possession of some suits?”  
Natasha shows him Daredevil’s suitcase. It doesn’t take long for them to get ready, and Tony’s actually impressed with how well they look, despite having lost their friend and him having to carry around a battery pack. In the airport exit doorway, there’s a man, holding a sign with the name ‘Matthew Murdock’ written on it in red ink. They approach him.

“Mr Murdock?” He asks, looking between the three boys, trying to decipher which one is the man they’re looking for.

“Afraid not.” Black Widow steps forward. “I’m Natasha Romanoff, this is Clint Barton, James Barnes and Tony Stark. Matthew couldn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.” Everybody bows their head. “My name is Hugo. If you’d like to follow me.” With no other option, they trail after the man and climb into his car. A limo. “I assume Mr Murdock didn’t tell you where you’re going?”

“You assume correctly.” Tony thinks if it wasn’t for Natasha, they’d all be completely useless. They’re being useless anyway, but at least the two men are holding it together.

“Then you’re in for a treat.” He gets in the front of the limo, and a film is put on for them.

“Is Matthew rich or what?” Tony asks, and he’s a billionaire.

“I do not work for, and this is not owned by, Mr Murdock.” Hugo says from the front of the car. “He saved my daughter’s life. You could call this cashing in a favour.”

“In Sokovia?” The film gets paused. Clint groans a little, but then like everybody else, realises he wants to know what Daredevil was doing in Sokovia too.

“No, he was in Japan at the time. She’d been kidnapped from our home in Greece. I’m currently here on a business trip, and I promised Elektra I would serve Mr Murdock personally in place of one of my staff.” He gives them no more information, and they get through a film and a bit before reaching their destination on the edge of a city. It’s a large mansion, made with lots of glass and has a beautiful garden with astonishing plants which climb the walls of the building, decorating it perfectly.

“Wow.” Clint says. Everybody’s in agreement. The door opens, and a tall girl opens it with a grin. Her long black hair is tied in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a beautiful red dress. With no sight of Matthew, her smile vanishes.

“Father?”

“I am sorry, Elektra. Matthew could not make it.” Tony is almost certain she’s going to cry, but instead the girl straightens her posture and smiles at them, leading them into the house. “Why don’t you show Matthew’s friends to their rooms? I have some work to do so I will see you all at dinner.”

“Of course. This way.” Elektra leads them through corridors, each one accented perfectly with different colours and paintings. “We only have three rooms prepared; we weren’t expecting five.”

“I’ll share with Clint.” Natasha says, and Elektra nods. They drop their cases off in each room, but instead of leaving them to it, Elektra beckons them all into her own room. Tony suddenly realises Matthew was supposed to be bunking with her, and his heart drops. “Were you close?”

“It depends on how you look at things.”

“Then not at all, in Matvei’s case.” Tony’s not quite sure he understands what Natasha’s getting at, but it does get a laugh from Elektra.

“I suppose you are right.” She walks over to her wall, takes off the pinboard and gets Clint to help her turn it around. It’s covered in plans and blueprints. “How did he die?” Tony takes interest in the posters on her walls. He doesn’t recognise any of the people on them.

“Saving Tony, protecting me.” Clint answers.

“I’m sorry.” Tony says. “I was supposed to have the tech to give him longer to get in.”

“You were the distraction, yes?” Elektra asks, and he nods. “Giving him the chance to get in and out. He got in ok if you’re all here, so why didn’t he get out?”

“He did.” Natasha says. “We took too long to find him- there was blood.”

“But no body?”

“No; just a boot.” Bucky tells her, and she examines the man’s missing arm.

“Then he’s not dead.” Tony’s starting to doubt everybody’s judgement. “We carry on as planned. These are the blueprints for a Hydra base here in Sokovia. Inside are two people, siblings- I don’t have their names. Matthew was certainly very secretive about them, but he said it would be a dangerous mission. Highly trained guards, cells, brainwashing, the likes.” Natasha, Bucky, and Clint all nod, and Tony looks at them with his mouth hanging open.

“Are we on a schedule?” Natasha asks. “Matvei travelled.” That got some sad laughs from the group, and Tony feels like an outsider once more. This isn’t like him, he’s normally all confident, a goes in guns blazing kind of person.

Elektra straightens up. “I doubt this is his last stop, but he had plans to stay for a month.”

“A month?!” Bucky asks. “Who are you?” Pure admiration, right there- Tony thinks.

“Elektra.” She smirks. “The pair of us were going to stake the place out for a week, get as much of the structure analysed as we could, but the plan to break them out was uncertain on my part. He warned me a lot about the girl, something about manipulation and instilled fear. Though, he said the boy was probably just as dangerous.”

Tony gets left out of the shared glances. “Wanda and Pietro.” Clint speaks up. “We’ve not stolen their clothes, we’re returning them.” Bucky looks down at his suit.

“Matthew did say something like that. The ones you’ve worn will get washed, we have some clothes here provided for you in your rooms. Natasha, you can use some of mine. I’m going to need somebody to accompany me each night to the base in Matthew’s absence.”  
Natasha steps forward. “I’ll go.”

Elektra grins. “Perfect.” She takes out a long black dress for Natasha. “I assume this is your colour. For dinner. And take these for tonight.” From a different closet she takes out some black leggings, t-shirt, and scarf.

“I have a suit.”

“Then just the mask.” Natasha smirks, and takes the scarf from Elektra with a polite nod. “You can go into any of the rooms except my father’s office and bedroom, and you can help yourself to anything. Tony?” She turns to face the boy who nods. “There’s a lab Matthew said you would be interested in. Get changed and let me show you the way.”

“Thank you.” He says and follows Bucky out of the bedroom. “So, opinions on Sokovia?” The teen turns his face to Tony and scowls, going into his own room. “Not quite his scene, huh?”

“Stark.” Natasha says. “Leave it a couple of days.” Clint and Natasha go into their room, and Tony goes into his own, opening the closet to find it full of clothes his size. Each are labelled: clothes for dinner, for recon, for relaxing. He takes out some jeans and a black top, carefully managing the battery pack. He exits the bedroom and Elektra is already stood there, now in a red dress, make up reapplied and her long hair trails down behind her back.

“Let me show you the way. I hope we have the correct equipment for you to make your… reactor? I’m sorry, science isn’t really my forte.”

“Arc reactor.” Tony explains. “It’s to stop the shrapnel reaching my heart.”

“You were in an explosion?” She asks, and he nods. “Shame to not be the cause of it, Mr Stark.”

Oh, no. Tony is not letting her go there. “I’ve officially disbanded the weapons production of Stark Industries.”

“I saw the interview.” She gives him a smile and leads him down some stairs. “You really had the best people in it for the job. Though, I’m sure people aren’t quite done questioning the heir to the company.”

“No,” he agrees, rolling his shoulders to try to relax in her scrutinising glare, “I’m sure they’re not.”

“Through here.” The lab is unlike anything he has ever seen. It must show on his face because the teenager chuckles. “My mother, ever the scientist before she passed. My father likes to keep her memory alive, however.”

“Like you’re doing with Matthew?” A sai is drawn and Tony is being held up against the wall, moments away from death.

“He goes by Matt.”

“I’ve never met him. I didn’t think I was qualified to use a nickname.”

“Then you call him the Devil.” The sai is removed from his neck and he lets out a breath. “You have five hours before dinner. Dress nice.” And she turns on her heels, high heels clicking away down the hall and echoing all the while. When he can no longer hear them, Tony gets to work, moving between workshops and designing his arc reactor with ease. There is half an hour until dinner when he’s finished, but he needs somebody to help replace the battery already inside him.  
He follows the path back to the bedrooms and knocks on Clint and Natasha’s room first. Clint opens it half dressed, brushing his teeth. “’Sup?”

“I was hoping you could help with, uh, this.” Tony gestures to his heart.

“Sure. One sec.” The door closes. “Nat! Hurry up, I need to spit and help Stark!” He hears yelled, and smirks just a little. A couple of minutes later, Clint reopens the door dressed. “Lead the way Iron Man.” He does as he’s instructed, and Clint looks at the lab in awe.

“This is so cool.”

“You like science?”

“Not at all. But I can appreciate it.” He walks over to the workbench Tony’s cleared. “Ok, what do I do?” Tony jumps onto the counter and takes off his shirt, connecting himself to some wires and lying down. He takes out the battery.

“I need you to take out what’s in here.” Clint takes off his blazer and rolls up his shirt sleeve.

“Ew, it’s all gunky.” Tony laughs a little, but the guy takes stuff out anyway. “All of it?”

“Yep.” He checks the monitors, and everything’s going smoothly. “Ok, can you put this one in?” He reaches for the glowing reactor, which Clint analyses before looking into the hole in Tony’s chest.

“I don’t know…”

“Just put it in.”

“Ok.” Tony was expecting more of an argument, but the archer just puts it in.

“Careful!”

“Sorry.” He apologises, though Tony expects he doesn’t mean it. Clint looks at the blue thing and turns it a little, locking it into place. “There you go. Does it hurt?” He taps the metal and Tony shakes his head.

“No. It’s just a bit… weird.”

Clint nods. “My aids are kind of like that. Weird.”

“I could take a look at them, make you some new ones.” Tony offers, putting his top back on and taking the ‘gunky’ mess of his old heart from Clint. “Not now, obviously. I get a feeling Elektra will kill us if we’re late for dinner.” That scares the teen into action, who’s washing his hands and putting on his jacket.

“How do I look?”

“Great.”

“I’ll cover for you, only because you’re offering to make me hearing aids.” Tony nods, and Clint runs away. “If I get lost, you cover for me Stark!” He yells. Tony just laughs. He returns to his room and changes for dinner, and once satisfied he’s smart enough and the glowing isn’t too prominent through the shirt, he makes his way to the dining hall, just in time to hear Clint saying “Oh, Tony might be a little late- I just performed surgery for him.” It’s a brag, a slightly inaccurate brag, but Tony will let him have it.

“Yes, sorry I’m late.”

“It is no problem, Tony.” Hugo says, and gestures to the empty seat. He takes it happily and as soon as he’s sat down, waiters are walking in with wine buckets and bread baskets. “I wasn’t sure how old each of you are, but Elektra informed me Matthew was sixteen, so as long as you are all sixteen or older, I am willing to let you drink a little.”

“Thank you.” They all chorus. Clint and Bucky are awkward in accepting the service, but Tony tries his best to remember how to behave from when his father took him to company meals. He notices Natasha trying her best to copy his mannerisms.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Hugo asks his daughter. She nods and gives him a polite smile.

“Yes, Natasha and I are going out for a girl’s night.” She smiles at the assassin who nods.

“Yes, travelling with these imbeciles really takes it’s toll.” She gestures to the three of them and it elicits a laugh from Elektra and her father. Tony’s shocked face matches Clint’s, but Bucky remains stoic.

“I am not an imbecile.” Clint protests.

“Clown?” Natasha asks him, tearing her bread and dipping it into some oil. Tony thinks it looks nice and helps himself to some.

“The circus didn’t have clowns.” Clint says, thinking back to all the acts. “Full of acrobats, contortionists, trapeze artists, knife throwers, fire dancers, archers. It’s a form of art.”

“Like theatre?” Elektra asks, and Clint nods.

“Theatre in a tent.” He clarifies. There’s a lull in conversation so Hugo fills it by asking the three of them what their plans are.

They unanimously agree they need an early night, and after dinner, they proceed to their rooms in silence, only wishing each other a good night at the last minute. Tony lays in his bed, thinking about what his plans are next. The only thing on his mind in Afghanistan had been to escape and end manufacturing weapons. Now though, with images of his time spent imprisoned flashing before his eyes, the whole world seems possible, but he is unable to come up with an idea of what to do with it. His racing mind quiets and leaves him in a deeply needed dreamless sleep.


	5. The Ballet

A week passes, and it passes quickly. Elektra stands at the pin board in her room, finalising the routine of the guards at the Hydra base they’re planning to infiltrate. “We need longer to plan.” Natasha speaks up from her place on the bed. “It’s these two guards we have a problem with. They have no strict rota to stick to. It’s completely random.”

“Why don’t we take them out first then?” Bucky asks. “Take out any liabilities first. Work around these guards.” He points at the marked ‘X’s, which are much clearer than Matthaeus’, he can’t help but think. He refuses to let a tear slip.

“We can’t do that.” Elektra states, pulling up her hair into a ponytail. “They cross over paths with these guards we have documented too often. We’d have to take them out in a pair, but there’s no way of stopping them from radioing back up. There isn’t nearly enough of us.” The forty ‘X’s are threatening in comparison to their five. “You two aren’t trained in hand to hand combat.” She points at Tony and Clint, then looks at Bucky. “I’m not sure about you.”

“I’m a soldier.”

“Well, that is in the name.”  
Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m strong. I can handle myself.” Elektra nods, trying to figure him out. “I’ve not been specially trained in that area, but I can throw a punch and I’m good with a gun.”

“My father has some contacts in Wakanda, they found some of their vibranium in Russia.”

“Vibranium?” Tony asks, at the same time as Bucky asks “Russia?”

“Made into a prosthetic arm.” She ignores both questions. “Any chance it belongs to you?” Bucky nods.

“How did it get to Russia?”

“Hydra is an international organisation.” Elektra recites Matthew’s words to her. It seems to work in her favour, and in that moment, she understands what Matthew was trying to tell her when they last spoke: ‘knowledge is power’. It’s a famous quote, countless teachers have used the phrase with her before, trying to get her to use her knowledge instead of her father’s money. She understands now that knowledge is important to him. She realises how much harder he’s had to work to prove himself, between being classed as a weapon like herself and being treated as an invalid by ableist jerks. “I imagine it wasn’t difficult.”

“Can I get it back?”

“My father can make the arrangements. Assuming you’ll stay for the rest of the month after this extraction, I’m sure he will be able to make it happen.”

“We’ll stay.” Clint says. “We’re finishing Matt’s plans.”

“Although you don’t know what they are?” Elektra raises her eyebrows at the other assassin.

“Hopefully we’ll be able to get some information from the Maximoff twins.” Natasha answers, but Elektra’s doubtful. Last thing she’d heard about the Maximoff twins from Matthew is that they weren’t quite in the right state of mind. She hopes she’s wrong. “But to do that, we need to get them out. Plan?”

They never get around to finalising a plan because somebody knocks on the door. She turns the pin board around before calling whoever it is to come in. Her Dad enters the room with a broad grin and a handful of tickets. “You must all feel ever so cooped up, having been in here all day. So, I have plans to take you out for the evening.” Elektra glances at Clint, whose face is the definition of worry.

“That’s so kind, but it really isn’t necessary Father.” Elektra replies.

“The tickets are only accepted tonight; I’m sure whatever plans you’ve got in stall for tonight can wait until tomorrow. Now, dress nice. We’re going to the ballet.”   
And he leaves the room. Elektra leans against the wall, and Clint slumps back onto the bed, defeated. Bucky rests his head in his hands and Tony shuffles awkwardly in his seat. Natasha, however, is quick to open Elektra’s closet and pick out an elegant navy-blue dress.

Everybody turns their attention to her, and she shrugs. “We don’t have a plan, I love ballet. We’re not on a schedule and can take an evening off. Perhaps a break might help.” An hour later, and the five are dressed up and sat in the back of the limo with Elektra’s father. They ride listening to Natasha discuss ballet with Hugo, and Elektra spends her time trying to analyse the shift in behaviour. She can’t pinpoint the emotion, and she’s not sure how much the girl is acting right now.

At the door, a woman greets them, checking their tickets. The kids trail behind Hugo to the bar, where they are served non-alcoholic drinks this time, and then they make their way up to the top balcony where their seats are. “Best seats in the house.” The man showing them the way says with a smile, and they all thank him. Elektra thinks he wasn’t kidding- it’s an excellent view of the entire stage.

“…was saying that Madame Adelaide’s nephew was, ah- sorry. Wrong room.” An English-speaking voice with a Spanish accent comes from behind them. They all turn around to face the voice. Matthew. This isn’t the wrong room at all. “You can’t seriously expect me to go around groping doors only to find they don’t have braille on them.” Pause. “Ok, maybe I am a bit lost. Thanks Drew, you’re a lifesaver.” He hangs up the phone and beams at the people in front of him. “I’m so sorry for this, I’m actually looking for the door to backstage, but uh, that’s proving to be a little difficult.” He gestures with one hand at his glasses- boring black rectangles- and holds onto his cane casually with the other.

“Would you like any help?” Elektra asks, jumping in to stop anybody stupid enough to question Matthew’s being here. “The performance doesn’t start for another ten minutes, I’m sure that’s plenty of time to find backstage.”

“Ah, no, thank you. If I’m going to provide backstage passes for after the show for this intrusion, for which I am so sorry,” ¬liar, Elektra thinks, “I figure it be best that I know the route from here.”

“Oh, that really isn’t necessary. Mistakes happen.” Elektra’s father speaks up, and Elektra wants to slap him. But then Matthew beams.

“Well, thank you for understanding. But if you’d like to come backstage afterwards, though I can’t promise much excitement, just ask for Mateo Moreno.”

“Oh, Mateo! There you are!” Another boy, with an Irish accent enters the balcony. “Sorry for disturbing you all. Have you offered…?”

“Back stage passes, yes.” And with that, Matthew is manhandled back through the door, and Elektra wants to follow the boy she assumes to be Drew and give him a piece of her mind. Sensing this, Natasha puts a hand on her arm.

“It would be cool to go backstage after.” She says with a grin, and the group eagerly agree. Elektra tries to discreetly scan the room, and sure enough, right above them is a security camera.

“Hey, it’s starting.” Clint whispers when the lights dim, but it doesn’t start for another five minutes. And then spotlights are on the stage and a group of women run out, launching into their routine, dressed in colours of royalty, Elektra notes. Then, a man walks out, accompanied with his two sons who look only to be about seven. The angelic nature of the dance matches their beautiful costumes, and Elektra looks over to see Natasha watching through the binoculars, scrutinising every move.

The scene moves on as time moves forwards, the sons growing up to be slightly older, then again, and then they land on Matthew and Drew- the king promises them everything: his money, the kingdom… beautiful wives. Elektra glances across at her father, who is watching the ballet intently. She also notices as Matthew maps the edge of his stage with his toes as the three look out onto the audience, something he always does when he has the luxury of being able to do so. But the King dies, and the pair are left orphaned just before the curtains draw.

“The prince in green, Mateo, he can dance.” Bucky says, and everybody nods in a stunned silence. Elektra remembers quickly that Tony doesn’t know who he is.

In the second half, time passes, and soon the two brothers have to pick from a row of women from the kingdom. Matthew steps forward first, examines the line of women, and claims one, dressed in red, Elektra notes. She wonders if he knows. The other prince, however, has other plans. He refuses to choose one of his father’s choices. The stage splits into two, Matthew progressing towards being king, inheriting all of the money, whilst Drew goes into the kingdom, getting to know the people who live there. He’s the ideal king. The one everybody should be rooting for. But Elektra’s biased, and she knows it’s a story.

Yet, when the end reaches, and the purple prince accidentally kills his brother in emerald in battle, she gasps. Drew dances back, running to his found girlfriend, while the girl in red pirouettes to Matthew’s side.

She sobs onto his chest, but the moment the royal purple prince and his girlfriend are off stage, the girl in red returns to her feet, perfectly happy, fake tears dried, and leaves him alone on the floor.

How the ballet ends, Elektra isn’t sure, too busy repressing her murderous tendencies because this is just a performance, nothing real. “Elektra?” Her dad nudges her. “You ok?”

“Yeah. That was amazing. Thank you for bringing us.”

“Yes, thank you.” Natasha says, and the boys chorus their thanks. “Can we take Mr Moreno up on his offer of seeing backstage?”

“Of course.” So Elektra’s dad leads the group, guessing the way to backstage until he finds the sign warning them. “Hello, we were offered backstage entrance by one of the dancers; Mr Mateo Moreno.” He says to the woman dressed in uniform stood by the entrance.

“Yes, Mateo has said some people might take him up on that. If you just wait here, he was quite keen to show you all himself.” Elektra grins, and Hugo eyes his daughter sceptically. Though, he says nothing and soon the blind ballet dancer is at the entrance, still dressed in costume.

“Matthaeus.” Bucky says quietly, flooded with emotion. Natasha glares at the soldier. “You were amazing.”

“All those extra ballet classes paid off.” Natasha whispers. He only grins.

“So, I’m Mateo Moreno. Backstage isn’t all that it’s made out to be, but I’m sure the cast would be more than willing to sign any programs you may have, and I’ve been told the costumes are magnificent.”

“They are beautiful. I would love to see them up close.” Natasha says, and everyone is quick to agree. Matthew leads them through, and they only pass a couple of people clearing away. “Here. A lot of these are made of silk, smooth to the touch, perfect to wear for dancing.” Elektra looks at the costumes, then at Matthew.

“I’m sure they’re perfect for more than just dancing.” She purrs, revelling under her father’s appalled glare.

Matthew smirks, or Mateo. Elektra’s kind of feeling that name at the moment. “Perhaps.” And he leaves it at that, gesturing to the rail of clothes. Elektra smirks right back. “Please, feel free to look.”

Natasha steps forwards, and starts taking costumes off the rail, examining their beauty, their quality, their importance. In between two of the costumes is a uniform, one of which the cleaners were wearing. “Oh, Mateo, there’s a uniform on here belonging to… Stacy? I think it’s in the wrong place.” Tony speaks up.

“Oh, I’ll take it.” He holds out his hand. “If you could, uh,” Natasha hands it over without a word about it, instead asking about the costumes.

“These are beautiful. Top quality design, they must have taken ages to make.”

“Yes, though I can’t give you much information on them. I haven’t been with the troop for long, and I’ve only been acting as an understudy. Tonight’s performance, was uh… I can’t think of the English word.” He frowns slightly, and Elektra chuckles, earning herself a scorning look from her father. “Inesperada.” He continues to frown though, and Elektra figures he might not be acting so much anymore.

“Oh! I know that word from the circus.” Clint exclaims, furrowing his brows. “Umm… unexpected!”

Mateo beams. “Yes! Exactly. Let me finish showing you around.” There’s not much left to see, though Natasha does get to dance a little on stage with Matthew, and Elektra refuses to admit that makes her jealous.

“Oh hey! I’m Drew! I briefly saw you all earlier.” The guy says as they’re on their way out.

“Hey Drew, would you mind showing this family out? I’m going to return this to Sandra.”

“Sure.” As the man leads them out, Matt grips onto Elektra’s wrist. She grins and follows him, letting the blind man lead her to somewhere she notices is out of sight of any cameras.

“Sandra, I don’t have all day.” He passes her the disguise, and Elektra laughs. The teen smirks at her and points to a cleaning trolly which he’s quick to curl up inside. Once in disguise, she starts wheeling the trolly out, leaving through the back entrance of the theatre after being wished pleasant goodbyes from her “colleagues”. “Keep going.” He whispers. “The storage is behind the theatre.” It’s not hard to miss, and Elektra uses the keys to unlock the cupboard and wheels the cart in. She strips off the cleaner’s clothes as Matt climbs out.

“Who knew you were so flexible?” She asks, and he smirks and takes khaki coat hanging up on one of the pegs. “Someone will miss that.”

“I doubt it.” He replies. Elektra subconsciously raises an eyebrow but doesn’t voice her question. “Come on.” He doesn’t unfold his cane, instead choosing to walk relatively close to her.

“Do you need any help?”

“No.”

They walk a few more steps before Elektra realises her mistake. “Do you want any help?” He hesitates, so Elektra offers her elbow and grins when he takes it. Though, he’s careful only touch her clothes. She doesn’t mention it. “Perfect. Now, I’m sure my father is wondering where I’ve gotten to.”  
Everyone is in the limo waiting when Elektra turns up. She opens the door for him. “Mateo.” He nods his head at her and climbs in, taking an empty seat and Elektra gets in after him.

“Elektra, darling, we can’t just open our doors to everyone. Sorry Mr Moreno, but…”

“Murdock.” He interrupts, still in a Spanish accent. “Matt Murdock. And, not to be rude, but can you please just drive?” They leave the carpark just as a group of people run out of the front door shouting his Spanish name, their calls loud and clear through the open windows of the limo.

“You’re Matthew Murdock?” Elektra’s dad asks from the front seat. She silently begs her father not to say anything rash, or rude, or anything that will disrupt the high everyone seems to be on… except Tony who just looks out of place.

“Yes, and you’re Mr Natchios?” He asks. “It’s an honour to meet you.” Elektra sees her Dad blush in the mirror of the car, and Matt grins. Elektra puts on the music to kill the silence nobody wants to be having. The drive to their house in painstakingly long, and the group of teens don’t have much patience, their fidgeting obvious to even Hugo who laughs at them and sends them to Elektra’s room. Only after thanking Matthew for saving his daughter’s life. It would be an understatement to say he took the thanks badly, but there are more pressing matters at hand to focus on.

“Matthaeus, we thought you were dead.” Bucky is the one to break the lingering silence, taking a seat at Elektra’s desk.

“I’m sorry.” He apologises. It goes quiet.

“You’re Daredevil?!” Tony exclaims, and everyone seems to be thankful for the change in conversation. He nods. “Ok, I really want to know how you got from Afghanistan to here, but also… you’re blind?!”

“Is that a problem?” Natasha stands up, and Tony cowers, just a little. He shakes his head, and it seems to satisfy the redhead. “Matvei, we… I, we need you.”

“Can I hug you?” Clint asks. “I really want to hug you right now.”

“No. Don’t touch me.” He steps back away from the group, acting like a deer in headlights.

“Ok, that’s cool. I won’t.” Clint holds his hands up in surrender and takes a seat on Elektra’s bed. “What happened?”

“I, uh…” He trails off, fiddles with the strap on his cane, “I…” the strap isn’t doing him justice and he starts to clench his fists, gripping into his cane so his knuckles turn white. “I escaped. Joined a touring ballet group, which was luck, as an understudy… but I wasn’t supposed to have to perform. I’ve been doing performances this last week and needed someone to get me out.”

“How injured are you? Where’s your suit?”

“My suit will be arriving in the post tomorrow from the ballet troop. You left a bag behind on the balcony.” Elektra never even noticed him plant one there… he really is good. “I’m injured enough that I shouldn’t be performing. I popped some stitches; do you have any suturing thread?”  
“I’ll call someone to get some for you.” He nods is thanks, and after the call has been made, he points to the wall. “Yes, we’ve been planning without you. Before you get offended, remember you were dead.” He nods and Elektra takes the pin board down and puts it on the bed. She reaches for his hand but the boy jerks away. Elektra steps back.

“It’s these two we’re having problems with.” Natasha says, placing pieces of blue tack on the ‘X’s. Any ideas?” His hand runs over the forty guards, memorising their movements through the arrows drawn on.

“We wing it. Your plan is great so far though. I’ll come down from the top with you, Elektra. Natalia, you with Clint from the back. Bucky and Tony, you make an entrance at the front. Do it after we’ve taken out as many guards as possible, that way most of their resources will be focusing on you and not us. That will leave us only ten scattered guards to worry about which Elektra and I will deal with. Though Clint, I need you inside for the rescue.”

Matt opens the door as someone from outside raises their hand to knock. “Thank you.” He takes the thread. “Sorry, but do you have any wrapping?”

“Certainly, Mr Murdock.” Matthew grins, and follows the butler out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

“I want to say he’s so cool, but it’s hard to take your friend seriously when he’s dressed in a green leotard.” Tony says, but it doesn’t get any laughs. “Ok, umm… he seems fun?” He tries again, earning himself a slap in the face from Natasha.

“You don’t know him.”

“Yet.”

“Matvei is an extraordinary person, and it doesn’t matter what he wears, what accent he speaks in, or what persona he chooses to share.” Tony goes quiet. “So don’t judge him, because he risked his life for you, and we don’t know the consequences of that.” Natasha stands up and straightens her dress. “But he needs space right now, and I’m tired, so I’m going to bed. The Maximoff twins don’t need saving tonight.”

Everyone else hovers. Then Clint leaves, and then Bucky, and then Tony follows, wishing goodnight to Elektra, and then she hears him saying the same thing to Matt in the hall. He comes into the room, towel wrapped around his fresh bandages, hair dripping wet. “You need a haircut.”

He shuts the door behind him, walks over to her confidently, and sits on the bed next to her. “Why don’t you cut it?” She does, trimming it short, letting his fringe flop to the side. He doesn’t remove his glasses, but Elektra doesn’t mind. This is enough trust, especially with her hands so close to the skin on his neck. This is enough from Matthew Murdock. “Thank you.” He doesn’t say it looks nice. Doesn’t say he likes it. Just smiles at her, and that is enough too. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She opens the wardrobe of clothes just for him. “Pyjamas?” He throws his head back, laughing. Elektra watches him use bandages to restrain himself to the bed before turning out the night, and she pretends her heart doesn’t shatter as Matthew near silently cries himself to sleep that night.


End file.
